The Bungalow Boys North of Fifty-Three

  Produced by Roger Frank and Sue Clark

  The two Dacre boys succeeding in rescuing their chum fromhis unfortunate position.]

  THE BUNGALOW BOYS NORTH OF FIFTY-THREE

  BY DEXTER J. FORRESTER

  Author of "The Bungalow Boys," "The Bungalow Boys Marooned in the Tropics," "The Bungalow Boys in the Great Northwest," "The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes," "The Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon," etc., etc.

  WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN

  NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1914, by HURST & COMPANY

  Table of Contents

  I. IN THE WHITE SILENCES. II. THE RESCUE OF SANDY. III. THE THIEF IN THE NIGHT. IV. THE TRACKS IN THE SNOW. V. THE WILDERNESS TRAIL. VI. STOPPING TO REST. VII. IN THE TRAPPER'S HUT. VIII. THE GHOSTLY CRY. IX. TOM CALMS JACK'S FEARS. X. THE MYSTERY SOLVED. XI. THE NEW-FOUND FRIEND. XII. THE FRIENDLY INDIAN. XIII. THE INDIAN'S PREDICTION. XIV. SWAPPING STORIES. XV. TOM ON "THE DOGS OF THE NORTH." XVI. COMING STORM. XVII. THE LOUPS GALOUPS. XVIII. TOM PLAYS DETECTIVE. XIX. OLD JOE'S THREAT. XX. THE END OF THE TRAIL. XXI. THE LITTLE GRAY MAN. XXII. "THE WOLF'S" TEETH. XXIII. SANDY ALONE. XXIV. THE PACK. XXV. HEMMED IN BY WOLVES. XXVI. THE BACK TRAIL. XXVII. FACING DEATH. XXVIII. THE TRAP. XXIX. SANDY HAS A NIGHTMARE. XXX. THE LAW OF THE NORTH. XXXI. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE. XXXII. A PROVIDENTIAL MEAL. XXXIII. OVER THE CREVASSE! XXXIV. A BATTLE ROYAL. XXXV. THE DEATH OF "THE WOLF."

  THE BUNGALOW BOYS NORTH OF FIFTY-THREE.

  CHAPTER I--IN THE WHITE SILENCES.

  The air in the valley was still as death. Not a wandering puff of windswept the white, snow-covered slopes that shot up steeply from eitherside of its wide, flat floor; nor had any stirred for several days. Theland was chained and fettered in icy bonds, and would be for many longweeks.

  The river--the Porcupine--that, when the Bungalow Boys had first come tothis valley in the Frying Pan Range, had dashed and sometimes ragedalong its shoaly course, was ice-fast. Occasionally from an overburdenedbirch or hemlock branch the accumulated snow would fall with a dullcrash.

  These miniature avalanches alone broke the white silence. In the deadstillness they sounded quite loud and startling when they occurred.There was no twittering of birds nor were there traces of any largeranimals than field mice and small rodents. In the snow, as if it hadbeen a white drawing-board, these tiny animals had etched their trackseverywhere as they drove their tunnels or skittered over the surface.

  But from round a bend in the river's course a column of blue smoke couldbe seen sagging and wavering almost straight up in the windless airtoward the leaden sky.

  The smoke came from an odd-looking craft tied up to the bank of theriver. The boat in question was a small steamer with a single blacksmokestack. At her stern was a big cylindrical paddle-wheel to drive herover the shallows and shoals. For the rest she was homely in theextreme. In fact, she might not inaptly have been compared to a bigfloating dry goods box pierced with windows, and with a pilot house,like a smaller box, say a pill box, perched on top.

  The _Yukon Rover_, which was the name she bore painted on her sides inbig black letters, was of a type common enough along the navigablewaters of Alaska, although she was smaller than most such steamers. Redcurtains hung in the windows of this queer-looking specimen of theshipbuilder's art, and the smoke, already mentioned, curled from a fatstovepipe, suggesting warmth and comfort within.

  At the bow, lashed fast to a small flagstaff, was a strange-lookingfigure. This was Sandy MacTavish's Mascot of the White North, the famoustotem pole that the Scotch youth had purchased as a good-luck bringerwhen the lads, as described in the "Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon," wereon their way northward from Seattle.

  A door in the forward part of the box-like superstructure suddenlyopened, and out into the frozen, keen air there burst three laughing,jolly lads. All were bundled up and carried skates. However depressingthe Alaskan winter might have been to many of our readers, it was plainthat these healthy, happy lads were enjoying themselves to the full.They slipped and slid across the frozen decks, and then made their waydown a steeply inclined sort of gangway leading to the frozen surface ofthe river.

  Their passage down this runway was not without incident. Sandy MacTavishwas behind his two chums, Tom and Jack Dacre. All were laughing andtalking at a great rate, their spirits bubbling over under the stimulusof the keen air and the thought of the fun they were going to have, whena sudden yell from Sandy came as the forerunner to calamity.

  "Whoop! Ow-wow! Hoot, mon!" shrilly cried the Scotch youth, as he felthis feet slide from under him on the slippery, inclined plane leading tothe ice.

  "What in the world----!" began Jack Dacre, the younger of the Dacrebrothers, when he felt himself cannonaded from behind by the yellingSandy.

  His exclamation was echoed an instant later by Tom Dacre, who was inadvance. He had half turned at the almost simultaneous outcries of hisbrother and Sandy.

  "Gracious!" he had just time to exclaim, when it was his turn to give ashout.

  As Jack had been bumped into by Sandy, so he in turn shot helplesslyagainst his brother.

  In a flash all three Bungalow Boys were shooting down the slipperygangway. They fetched up in a snow pile at the bottom, a fact whichsaved them a hard bump on the frozen surface of the river.

  "Whoopee! Talk about shooting the chutes!" puffed Tom, scrambling to hisfeet and shaking the powdery snow from his garments.

  "Beats the time Sandy went sky-hooting down that old glacier on theYukon!" chimed in Jack, half angrily. "What's the matter with you,anyhow, you red-headed son of Scotland?"

  "I'm thinking I'm loocky to be alive," muttered Sandy, feeling himselfall over as if to ascertain if he had sustained any mortal injuries.

  "I guess we're the lucky ones," laughed Tom.

  "Yes, we formed a human cushion for your freckled countenance to landon," pursued Jack, as Sandy rubbed his nose affectionately. The organ inquestion was of the snub variety and decorated with freckles like spotson the sun.

  "Aweel, mon, dinna ye ken that you saved my beauty?" chuckled Sandygleefully. "You ought to be glad of that."

  "I'll fix your fatal beauty, all right!" cried Jack, and he rushed atSandy with a whoop.

  But the Scotch lad was too swift for him. He dashed off, and at a safedistance proceeded to adjust his skates.

  "I'll get you yet!" cried Jack, shaking his fist, and then he and TomDacre sat down at the foot of the disastrous gangway and put on theirice-skimmers.

  Jack looked up from his task to perceive Sandy making derisive gesturesat him.

  "Hoot, mon, gie me a bit chase!" yelled Sandy, hopping about nimbly andexecuting some gliding figures with a taunting air.

  "If it's a chase you're looking for, that is my mid
dle name!" exclaimedJack, and with a shout and a whoop he was off after the other lad. Thesteel rang merrily on the smooth ice as Tom swung off after the othertwo.

  The blood of all three boys tingled pleasantly in the sharp air. Theirfaces glowed and their eyes shone.

  "You look out when I get hold of you!" exclaimed Jack, as Sandy, for the'steenth time, eluded his grasp and swung dashingly off, skimming theice as gracefully as the swallows soared above the river in the summermonths.

  "Yah-h-h-h-h-h!" called Sandy tauntingly, "want a tow-line?"

  Sandy gave a loud laugh as, elated at his easy escape from his irritatedchum, he gave a fancy exhibition of figure-making, and at its conclusionskimmed off again just as Jack's fingers seemed about to close on histormentor's shoulder.

  "I'll wash your face in the snow when I catch you! Just you see if Idon't!" shrilly threatened Jack.

  A laugh from Sandy was the only answer as he shot off under full steam.He turned his head to show his perfect command of the fine points ofskating. A broad grin was on his freckled countenance.

  "Catch me first, Jack! I'll bet you----"

  "Hi! Look out!" roared Tom.

  But his warning came just about the same instant that Sandy, skimming atfull speed over the ice near the _Yukon Rover's_ hull, gave a howl ofdismay as he felt the ice give way under him.

  The next instant he vanished from view as the thin ice--merely askimming over the hole chopped early that day to get drinking water outof the river--broke under his weight.

  Jack, close on his heels, had just enough warning to swing aside. Thelast they saw of Sandy MacTavish was two hands upheld above the water ashe vanished from view.

  Then he disappeared totally.

  "Tom! Quick! Help! He'll be drowned," yelled Jack at the top of hisvoice.

  CHAPTER II--THE RESCUE OF SANDY.

  On the edge of the thin ice that had formed over the top of the waterhole was a bucket. It was used to draw the supply of drinking water, andto its handle was attached a long rope. Jack, half beside himself withfright at the sight of Sandy's plunge and his own narrow escape, stoodas if in a trance as he watched Tom swoop down on the pail.

  He had hardly done this when Sandy's face, blue with cold, appearedabove the water at the edge of the hole.

  "Ouch! Ow-w-w-w-w! Fellows, canna ye get me oot of this before I freezeto death?"

  "All right, Sandy old man. Hold on! We'll get you out!" cried Tomencouragingly.

  "It's cuc-cuc-cold!" stuttered the Scotch youth, his teeth clicking likea running fish reel as he clung desperately to the solid ice at the edgeof the hole.

  Tom's answer was a reassuring shout, and, aided by Jack, who had quicklyrecovered from his temporary paralysis, he came swiftly toward Sandywith the rope from the bucket in his hands. As he skated toward theunfortunate Caledonian youth his hands nimbly made a loop in the rope.He flung this over Sandy's head and then, with a mighty heave and yank,the two Dacre boys succeeded in rescuing their chum from his unfortunateposition.

  "Now you get back to the boat as fast as you can," ordered Tom, halfangry and half amused at Sandy's plight.

  "It was Jer-Jer-Jack's fault!" chattered the unfortunate one.

  "Why didn't you look where you were going?" demanded Jack. "You gave usthe scare of our lives!"

  Sandy appeared to be about to make an indignant reply, but Tom checkedhim.

  "You two fellows fight this out another time," he ordered sharply."Sandy, get into the cabin right away. There's some hot tea on thestove. While you're getting into dry things I'll fix something up foryou. Get a move on now."

  Sandy, without a backward glance, took his way up the gangway, followedby the others. Both Mr. Chisholm Dacre, uncle of Tom and Jack, and hispartner in the enterprise that had brought the party north, were awayback over the snowy mountains on a trip to a distant post forprovisions. The boys were not sorry for this, under the circumstances.

  And now let us leave them for a time while Sandy is being half scaldedto death with hot tea and vigorously rubbed with rough, scratchy towels,and explain in some detail, to those who do not already know them, whothe Bungalow Boys are, and what they are doing in the frozen north inthe dead of winter not long before Christmas time.

  We first met the lads in the "Bungalow Boys," a volume devoted to theirdoings and adventures, grave and gay, in the Sawmill Valley in Maine,where, by a series of strange events, they fell "heirs" to a cozybungalow, which fact resulted in their being known as the Bungalow Boys.It was a name bestowed upon them after they had routed a band ofcounterfeiters who made their haunt in the valley and caused all sortsof trouble for the boys, whom the gang viewed as interlopers.

  Adventures came thick and fast to the boys and their companion, acertain wise and lovable, though eccentric, professor. The latter, byaccident, stumbled on the counterfeiters' den, an odd, cavern-like placecunningly concealed on a cliff summit above a small lake opposite to thebungalow. The boys, too, had many thrilling experiences, the memory ofone of which lingers particularly. Our readers will have no trouble inrecalling Tom's adventure in the flooded cave following his battle withthe enraged moose, and his subsequent adventures with the Trullibergang. In this volume, also, Mr. Chisholm Dacre, the Bungalow Boys'uncle, appeared after a mysterious absence, the cause of which was fullyexplained in the unraveling of events.

  We next encountered our fun and adventure-loving heroes down inequatorial seas. In the "Bungalow Boys Marooned in the Tropics" theirexperiences in search of sunken treasure were set forth in full. In anexciting narrative, warm with the color and life of the tropics, thetale of their adventures and perils below, as well as above, the oceanwas told. How Tom saved Mr. Dacre's life from a huge devilfish far underthe surface of the sea was but one of the experiences that occurred onthat expedition. Jack and Sandy, too, came in for stirring times, notthe least of which was the incident of the haunted cabin on the desertisland and their "laying of the ghost."

  The "Bungalow Boys in the Great North West" dealt with very differentscenes. In this book we made the acquaintance of Mr. ColtonChillingworth, the sturdy, sterling-hearted ranchman and friend of Mr.Dacre. How the boys incurred the enmity of a band of Chinese smugglersand how they acquitted themselves in several trying situations may allbe read there, together with much information about that wonderfulsection of our country.

  The great bodies of fresh water lying on our northern boundary lineprovided the setting for yet another volume which was called "TheBungalow Boys on the Great Lakes." In a Lake Huron "hummer" the boysbegan a series of remarkable experiences. Setting out for a pleasurecruise, they found that they were once more called upon to facedifficulties and dangers. Doubtless the hardened muscles andself-reliance developed in them by their other adventures helped them tomeet these with fortitude and success. The secret of Castle Rock Islandwas one well worth finding out, as those who have read the book inquestion know.

  Then came a succeeding volume, "The Bungalow Boys on the Yukon." The"Golden River" of Alaska, that vast territory "North of Fifty-three,"was traveled by the lads and their elders in the stout little craft, the_Yukon Rover_, which we have already encountered in "winter quarters" inthe present volume. Sandy, as usual, got into many scrapes, and Tom andJack met with an extraordinary experience at the hands of two dementedgold miners, who imagined that they had discovered a new El Dorado. Fromthese two victims of the mad lust for gold they finally made theirescape with the aid of a good-hearted, though comical, negro.

  Their object in navigating the Yukon was to establish winter quartersfor an unique industry, namely, the trapping and breeding of the rareand expensive silver fox and black fox. The animals were to be takenalive in specially designed box-traps, and when enough had been capturedthey were to be shipped to Mr. Chillingworth's ranch in the state ofWashington and set at liberty to breed in a climate believed to beexcellently suited to them.

  Perhaps some of our young readers may think this a very queer form ofenterprise. To these it mu
st be explained that the project in which Mr.Dacre, the Bungalow Boys' uncle, and Colton Chillingworth, the rancher,were partners was by no means a chimerical one. Good silver fox peltsbring in the open market from fifteen hundred to twenty-five hundreddollars each, and black fox pelts even more than that. If it waspossible, therefore, to raise them in numbers, there would be almostliterally a "gold mine" in the business. At any rate, both the partnersthought well enough of the idea to sink considerable capital inperfecting their plans.

  An important part of their scheme was to preserve its secrecy, forrivals might prove troublesome. With this object a steamer had beenchartered and the _Yukon Rover_, in sections, transported to thenorthland. She was put together at St. Michaels, near the mouth of theYukon River, and loaded with "duffle," traps and material forconstructing a well-equipped "trapping-line," had climbed the swift,shallow river to its junction with the Porcupine.

  In the "Bungalow Boys Along the Yukon" we saw them in the earlier stagesof the enterprise, which was now in active operation. The trappingseason had opened, and already in several specially constructed cagesclose by the _Yukon Rover_ were some choice specimens of silver andblack foxes. But many more would be needed before the spring came, andthe adventurers with their valuable living cargo could "go out," asreturning to civilization is called in Alaska. The enterprise hadsucceeded so far in a manner very gratifying to both the partners. Asfor the boys, they were enjoying themselves to the full. But it was notall play. They had been brought along to "make themselves useful," aswell as to have fun. Already they had become hardy snow travelers andexperienced trappers, and so, when this story of their doings opens, wefind them well content with their situation and delighted at thesuccessful way in which the trapping had so far gone forward.